


All We Have Is Our Fire

by magifrog



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, I'm not sure where this is going but I'll get around to making some type of plot, Language Barrier, Willow fucks up a bit with fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magifrog/pseuds/magifrog
Summary: This time, when Willow wakes up, it's different. This time, someone is there to greet her.





	All We Have Is Our Fire

It had been a while since Willow had created this much destruction.

To be sure, she had always had that itch, that compulsion. It was hard to resist it- the heat and light of the fire built up something in her, some type of manic energy that spilled over into peals of laughter, complete rightness in the world.

She had been accustomed to the cold since before the time she had spent in hell: really, it had been her own personal hell, the rejection from her parents, the begging door-to-door, mulligan stew with at times unspeakable ingredients. The world she was in now, that she had no name for? It was scarcely different from the hell she had been living in, with one key difference.

She could become one with the thing she maybe loved more than anything else.

It was getting hotter, now, and Willow knew from experience that she would likely pass out from the smoke before anything painful happened. It hadn't been intentional, at first. A particularly obnoxious pine had uprooted itself, swaying towards her menacingly. She had only meant to use the fire as a means of indirectly killing it.

Then night had fallen, and she hadn’t been prepared, and so it had been a deadly game of tag, running across the dark meadows in search of something combustible, trying to stay ahead of the ancient evergreen giant that pursued her.

And suddenly, she had been cornered here, having not paid attention to exactly what she was lighting, or planned any type of escape route through the trees. For a moment, she was reminded of the early days, when she had done this again and again out of sheer boredom. With little consequences from death, it was preferable to what happened when she stayed alive too long. Seeing the things swimming in the edge of her vision, even with Bernie around, was too much for her to deal with. That was usually when she turned to the fire, embraced it, trusted it and only it to protect her from the things in the dark. And it worked, most of the time.

Willow’s vision blurred, and her thoughts started to run together, and for the first time in a long time she thought of home. Her sisters, and her mother. The Hooverville she’d stayed in, the face of a kind woman, dark and beautiful and still round despite the hunger, splitting bread and cheese between them. Singing songs, sneaking into the pictures with the Seeley boys. It all seemed so distant now, she thought, and let her consciousness slip from her as her lungs finally gave out from the coughing.

 

For all the blessings Willow never counted, one she appreciated was that Maxwell no longer loomed over her every time she came back into existence. Even with her prior experience, she always felt a little shaken, stumbling to her feet like a newborn deer, fragile and vulnerable much more than usual.

This time, however, a freckled, toothy grin appeared above her, one she didn't entirely recognize.

“Well, hello. Are you new around here?” Usually, Willow was a bit less than cordial, but something in her gut sold her on the idea of forging an alliance. Maybe the girl’s muscular build, which looked perfect for woodcutting, or the friendly way the corners of her mouth slanted upwards, forming dimples. Whatever it was, she could feel her palms start to sweat like they had in the brilliant light of the forest fire she’d left.

The girl said something to her that she didn't quite understand, heavily accented and only somewhat resembling the good old American English that Willow had spoken all her life.

“What was that?”

The words were repeated, and although she perhaps understood less, she could infer by the tone that it was some inquiry as to her well-being.

“I’m fine, thanks.” She put a hand on her chest. “My name is Willow. Willow.”

“ _ Jag heter _ Wigfrid,” the girl nodded, offering Willow her hand.

“Nice name. It suits you.” Willow took her hand, pulling herself to her feet, and brushed off her skirt. “You wouldn't, ah, happen to have any sorta campsite going? I can help out with whatever needs doing.”

“ _ Vad?” _

Willow sighed softly, cupping her hand like a fire pit, or maybe a nest. She walked two fingers over to it, hoping Wigfrid would get the gist.

“ _ Varför naturligtvis _ ,” she smiled, taking Willow’s wrist and leading her through the trees.

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm going to apologize in advance for my poor attempts at Swedish. I promise it will either get somewhat better or stop)


End file.
